


Sips of Love

by PanicFOB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 05:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicFOB/pseuds/PanicFOB
Summary: Bucky's moments of bliss told through the lens of his gal's favorite hot cocoa flavors.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Sips of Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, anyone who follows me on Tumblr is probably aware of this already, but in December, I'm doing a 25 Days of Christmas Fics challenge. I'll be posting something every day for December 1st through the 25th, and there will be different holiday-related prompts for each day. This story was written for Day 3: Hot Chocolate, but I've been dying to share it with everyone, so I'm gonna go ahead and post it now. I hope you enjoy :)

French vanilla hot cocoa was their first date, watching a hockey game and sipping their paper cups filled with the sugary warm liquid, cringing each time a fight broke out among the players. It was her wild, wind-blown hair and chattering teeth. It was his dark grey beanie pulled down over his own long locks.

The hot chocolate was a way to fill the awkwardness. It was long, lingering gulps when neither of them was sure what to say to the other. It was uncertainty, strangeness. But it was also comforting and hopeful. It was Bucky’s heated lips feeling brave enough to lean in for the kiss when he walked her home at the end of the night.

Peppermint hot cocoa was what he brought her when he visited her at work on the rare occasion. It was her favorite flavor. It was his way of impressing her. Darling smiles as she took that first scalding sip and let out a delighted sigh. The to-go Starbucks cup decorated with a joyful snowman.

It was their first few months together. Unable to spend more than a day without making up excuses to see each other. It was her coworkers teasing him when he stopped by, saying that she already had him wrapped around her finger. It was Bucky not bothering to deny it.

Gingerbread hot cocoa was what her mother offered him when Y/N brought him home to meet her parents for the first time. It was firm handshakes and polite smiles. It was nerves and manners. It was Bucky’s best effort at a good impression.

It was the way she held on tight to his metal hand as they sat on the hideous couch together and listened to her father drone on about politics. It was the way she glowed when her mother asked how they had met.

Raspberry hot cocoa was Bucky’s first valentine since before the war. It was a snowy mid-February and a reserved dinner at some swanky restaurant. It was a chaser to the glasses of wine they’d had with their food.

It was ambling about New York, gloved hands cradling the coveted cups of warming liquid. A loving chocolatey kiss. And then another. And another. It was her place again at the end of the night. The warmth of the drink coursing through Bucky as he took her to bed. It was decadent and smooth. It was love.

Nutella hot cocoa was what she drank when Bucky was away. She said it was the only thing that could keep her warm at night when he wasn’t in her bed.

It was selfies of her on that couch that Bucky loved, in those pajamas that Bucky loved, holding up that stupid Winter Soldier mug that Bucky pretended to hate but actually loved.

It was the welcoming taste of her mouth when he’d return to her late at night. She’d be sound asleep but would pull herself out of slumber just enough to greet him with a sultry, Nutella-flavored kiss.

White fudge oreo hot cocoa was what she drank during the summertime. It was Bucky and all the Avengers teasing her for choosing that over lemonade or iced-tea in ninety-degree weather. It was beads of sweat pouring down his face as he incredulously watched her cling to the hot beverage.

It was cookouts and fireworks. The disgusting combination of hot cocoa with hot dogs. It was her quirkiness. Her insanity. It was one of those things that made her special, made her amazing. It was Bucky falling even more in love with her than he already was.

It was him finally conceding to take a sip on a cool summer evening and realizing that it wasn’t so bad after all.

Eggnog hot cocoa was another holiday season. An engagement. Cheers of celebration. It was Bucky standing still as the whole world continued to spin around him because he couldn’t believe that she had actually said yes.

It was dancing next to the fireplace at the compound, pleasant chatter surrounding them as they lost themselves in each other’s arms, soft Christmas tunes floating to them from far away.

It was all of Bucky’s things at her place now. Her sitting on the couch sipping that eggnog hot chocolate as he lugged in the last of his boxes.

Black cherry bourbon hot cocoa was a different party a month later. Clint’s birthday to be precise. It was everyone else drinking dozens of shots of hard liquor while Y/N happily sipped on her spiked chocolate beverage. It was the typical rambunctiousness of all the Avengers together and tipsy.

It was Bucky and his gal sleeping in his old room at the compound, not wanting to make the trek back to their apartment in the midnight winter wind.

It was passion, and maybe a bit of recklessness. It was something unplanned.

Peanut butter hot cocoa was what she craved at all hours of the day. Bucky was considering just getting her an IV filled with it. It was him rubbing her swollen feet in his lap as she rested on the couch with that Winter Soldier mug perched on her round belly.

It was panic and then excitement. It was fear and then joy. It was all the strange pieces of Bucky’s long life falling into a perfectly comfortable place. It was something he never knew he wanted, but a wonderful gift that she was giving him.

Plain hot cocoa with the itty-bitty marshmallows was a tiny voice calling out from the living room, “Don’t forget the whipped topping, dad!” It was five in the morning on one of Bucky’s few days off, spent watching cartoons on the couch as he attempted to let her mother get some rest.

It was Bucky’s daughter being just as strange and adorable as the lovely woman he had married and started a family with. Between the two of them, there was never room in their pantries for anything other than hot chocolate. It was glancing over at the little girl with pigtails in her hair, Bucky’s heart swelling as he wiped the whipped-cream mustache from her lip with his metal thumb.

It was his wife shuffling into the room, falling into his lap with bleary eyes, and planting a sleepy kiss on his lips. It was the three of them together. Bucky’s family.


End file.
